


Give and take (a little more)

by asterismal (asterisms)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, M/M, Rebel Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-26 10:49:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20928992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asterisms/pseuds/asterismal
Summary: “Iwon’t,”Harry says, gasping, throwing his head back and baring his throat. The Dark Lord at his back hums in pleasure, and Harry lets out a shuddering sigh. Everything in him is screaming to get away, but he can’t bring himself to move.He can’t even begin to fight.The Dark Lord smiles, then, and Harry feels the press of teeth against his skin.“You will.”





	Give and take (a little more)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Miraculous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miraculous/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by [Miraculous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miraculous/pseuds/Miraculous) in the [October_Flash_Fest_Part_One](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/October_Flash_Fest_Part_One) collection. 

> **Prompt:**
> 
> Tom/Voldemort is the malicious ruler of a large kingdom, who has the horrifying ability to make people do exactly what he asks (exactly like the Imperius curse).
> 
> One day the guards catch a young rebel boy who has been spying, but when Tom/Voldemort tries to use his powers on him to demand him to reveal what he knows - nothing happens. The boy is somehow, impossibility able to fight him.
> 
> Tom/Voldemort will, for the first time in his life have to find another way to get what he wants...

The large doors swing shut behind him with an ominous thud, and Harry does his best not to stumble as he’s dragged forward. The Death Eaters guiding him care little for his comfort, and it shows. In fact, he thinks they might like it if he fell. They seem the type to enjoy dragging their prey across the floor. 

Before him, at the far end of the great hall, the Dark Lord himself lounges in his throne. 

Finally, they reach the foot of the Dark Lord’s throne, and the Death Eater to his left kicks at his legs. Harry buckles to his knees.

Every part of his body aches. 

He coughs, tasting blood. While this may be as far from his idea of a perfect evening as one can get, Harry decides he has to take his little victories where he can. 

He spits his blood onto the marble floor. 

One of the Death Eaters grabs him by the hair; he bares his teeth in a bloody grin. 

“Release him,” the Dark Lord drawls. 

He sounds bored. 

Harry has never wanted to kill another person more than he does now.

With a disgruntled huff, the Death Eater does as commanded. Harry lets slip a sigh of relief when his hands are unbound for the first time in what feels like days. He’s surprise there’s any feeling left in them at all. 

“Why have you brought him to me?” the Dark Lord asks.

Harry makes a show of rubbing at his wrists, looking down at the chafed skin to disguise just how intently he’s listening.

“He has resisted all forms of interrogation, my lord.” 

“And?”

The Death Eaters shift uncomfortably. 

“We thought—” The Death Eater to his right clears her throat. “He bore the seal of the Phoenix, my lord. We suspect he is high ranking among the rebels.”

Harry would laugh if he thought it wouldn’t hurt. It looks like the Death Eaters can be competent after all. 

Who knew?

“We tried everything, my lord,” the Death Eater to his left insists. He nudges Harry with his foot, just shy of kicking him. “He even resisted legilimency.” 

“Is that so?” The Dark Lord finally sounds interested.

Harry frowns. How is he supposed to get out of this now?

“Yes, my lord,” the Death Eaters chorus. 

The Dark Lord rises from his throne.

“Stand back,” he commands his followers, and they bow and retreat. The closer he gets, the harder it is for Harry to breathe. 

He’s heard the stories, of course. Who hasn’t? But the stories have nothing on what it actually feels like to be here, on his knees before quite possibly the most powerful man alive. 

It’s exhilarating. 

And terrifying. 

“Tell me who you fight for,” the Dark Lord says, his voice like a physical weight across Harry’s shoulders. 

While he would love to say the man’s power doesn’t affect him at all, there is an undeniable part of him that longs to answer his call. The Dark Lord is strong, with a will like iron and unspeakable power to back it up. Everyone knows this, _ especially _ the Dark Lord. In fact, one might say he’s mad with the knowledge. 

But there is something the Dark Lord doesn’t know.

His will is strong enough to bend armies and spill secrets from the craftiest spy.

But Harry?

Harry is stronger. 

“No,” Harry says, and he has the utter joy of watching surprise break open the man’s remote expression. 

“What did you just say?” His voice is dangerously quiet. 

“I said.” Harry looks up to meet the man’s gaze, glaring. _ “No.” _

The Dark Lord’s red eyes burn, new fire rising at Harry’s challenge.

“Leave us,” he says.

The Death Eaters hesitate. “My lord?” 

_ “Leave us.” _

Without another word, the Death Eaters turn woodenly and march for the door. Harry turns to watch them go, but before he can, the Dark Lord grabs him by his chin, pulling him to his feet. Harry has to rise onto his toes to breathe in his grip, and he spares a thought to cursing whichever gods decided the Dark Lord deserved his imposing height alongside his already imposing power.

“Who are you?” The Dark Lord says. He doesn’t quite manage to sound like he’s asking instead of demanding.

Harry looks him in the eye and says, “Fuck you.”

The Dark Lord’s grip tightens, and Harry chokes. He grabs the man’s wrist, knowing others have been killed for less. 

“Bold,” the man says, only half a warning. He lets Harry go, watching with barely hidden glee as he falls to his knees again. “A wiser man would watch his tongue.”

Harry is too busy gasping for breath to reply. 

By the time he’s recovered, the Dark Lord has taken to circling him, like a beast on the hunt. Harry shivers at the feeling of having the man at his back, but he keeps his eyes forward. He refuses to give the man the satisfaction of seeing him unsettled. 

“Stand up,” the Dark Lord says.

While he doesn’t exactly like being on his knees before the man, Harry likes the thought of doing as he’s told even less. “No.”

The Dark Lord halts behind him, and Harry clenches his fists when he feels him come closer. A hand drags through his hair, and he gasps, shivering. Before he can even try to duck away, the Dark Lord’s hand fists in his hair and forces him to rise again. 

“I said _ stand.” _

Harry groans, warring desires wracking his body. 

“Give in, darling,” the man croons in Harry’s ear, sensing weakness. 

His hold on Harry’s hair relaxes, and his hand falls to cradle Harry’s throat. His other arm wraps across his waist from behind, pulling him flush against the Dark Lord’s chest.

“No,” Harry protests, breathless. 

The Dark Lord bends down until his lips are just a breath away from where Harry’s pulse beats like a hammer against the skin of his throat.

_ “Give in.” _

“Ngh—No.”

The Dark Lord sighs, disappointed, and leans forward just enough to press an open-mouthed kiss to Harry’s neck. Harry leans back into the man’s hold, not trusting his legs to keep him upright.

“Tell me.”

“I _ won’t,” _ Harry says, gasping, throwing his head back and baring his throat. The man hums in pleasure, and Harry lets out a shuddering sigh. Everything in him is screaming to get away, but he can’t bring himself to move. 

He can’t even begin to fight.

The Dark Lord smiles, then, and Harry feels the press of teeth against his skin. 

“You will.”


End file.
